Nothing But Time
by day-or-knight
Summary: Set three years after everyone returns, Clint Barton is just trying to survive. AU. Some of Endgame happened, some of Endgame didn't.
1. Chapter 1

**Buckle in kids. It's gonna be one hell of a ride.**

**Certain things in Endgame happened, certain things didn't. This is set THREE years AFTER Endgame. **

**For the sake of this AU, Clint's family does NOT exist. **

* * *

Clint Barton stepped off the Quinjet, his left arm clutching his right side, his face covered in dirt, a cut on his hairline dried in blood, a slight limp in his walk.

"Told you that you couldn't take them all on by yourself."

Clint rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Even though I was in the circus, doesn't mean I am flexible."

"I'm just saying, if you would have let me help..." Said Natasha in a sing song voice.

"We wouldn't be in this mess." Clint stopped just before one of the doors to the newly completed compound. "You had plenty of men on you too, so I guess we're fair." He shrugged, holding the door open.

Clint walked on down the hall before turning right towards Medical.

"Agent Barton! What can I do for you today?" a feminine voice asked as he opened the door.

"Hey Carly." He said casually as he jumped up onto the examination table. "I took a good graze to my right side and probably need some glue for my head. I also wouldn't mind a few painkillers please?"

"Oh, is that all." The doctor said sarcastically as she popped on a pair of gloves. "And here I thought you were just making a social visit."

"Natasha should be down here soon, she got pretty banged up too."

The doctor looked at her new patient for a second, before nodding her head. "Let's see what the damage is."

After getting glued back together and having his side stitched, Clint was back to being temporarily pain free and, on his feet, taking the elevator up towards his apartment located on the base. He got off, walking down the hall before stopping at the fourth door down. He balanced his go bag in one hand, placing one of his left fingers on the locking mechanism of the door.

"Nat?" he called out, setting his bag down onto the floor, making a mental note to unpack it after their debrief. "Natasha?"

He walked into the bedroom, seeing a few shirts scattered on the floor, he came to the realization she was probably down in Medical, being stitched up by Carly.

"Agent Barton, Agent May requests your presence in the conference room on the third floor in thirty minutes." FRIDAY's voice spoke overhead.

"Ok, thanks' FRIDAY."

Clint grabbed a change of clothes, heading to the bathroom to jump in for a quick shower to wash away the grime of the mission, being careful of his freshly dressed injuries.

He jumped out, drying off before getting dressed, putting all the necessities into the pockets of his jeans, writing out a message on the refrigerator before walking out the door. He hopped back onto the elevator he was on before, slipping his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

"Barton." Tony Stark acknowledged as he stepped onto the elevator. "You going for a new look or something?"

Clint looked down, noticing his mis-matched shoes. "You just learning how to shave Stark?" Clint laughed, gesturing towards the abrasion on the side of the billionaire's face.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, I've made a prototype of a new arrow I want you to try out in the range, their more durable and hopefully less prone to cause problems in the field."

"Yeah, I had a few things I wanted to run by you, I will swing by later? I'm on my way to a debriefing right now." Clint said as the elevator dinged, the car arriving to his destination.

"You know where to find me." Tony mocked saluted.

Clint slowly walked on down the hall, knocking on the proper door before letting himself in.

"Agent Barton please come in, have a seat."

Clint hobbled over, falling down into one of the office chairs surrounding the oval table.

"This is Agent Melinda May. Initiating debrief for case number Delta 9-5-7." She stated as she wrote something down onto the paper laying in front of her, Clint already knowing that there was an audio and visual recording happening. "I have with me Agent Clint Barton who was the lead on the mission. Clint, the floor is yours.

"Agent Clinton Francis Barton, agent identification number 6-1-6." Clint stated before going into the details of the mission he was assigned.

An hour later, Clint walked out the door and back down the hall, keeping his head down as he analyzed the past hour.

"Hey." He heard a familiar voice say.

Clint looked up, a smile on his face as he looked at who was propped on the wall. "Hey Nat, I assume you seen my message on the fridge. You fixing to head in for your debrief?"

"Waiting on your slow ass to come out Barton." She joked.

"But it's a nice ass. Met you in the cafeteria?"

She shook her head, pushing off the wall. "I've got some things to get caught up on. "I'll meet you at yours in a few?"

"Sounds good." Clint told her, pushing the door open for the stairs. "I would tell you to have fun but we both know it sucks."

Clint walked down two floors and into the hallway, his sights set for the cafeteria. He walked through the door, grabbing a to go plate to take back to his apartment. He stood in front of some fruit, staring at the variety.

"Hey Clint." Bruce Banner said as he stood beside Clint. "You ok? You've been standing here for almost five minutes."

"Hey Bruce. I'm just trying to decide what I want to eat, I can't decide between Cantaloupe or Watermelon. I want Watermelon but that just makes you use the bathroom a lot and I don't want to keep Natasha awake by being up and down all night." Explained Clint.

Bruce stared at him for a second. "Yeah… I don't- I don't blame you."

"I think I am just going to get both." He shrugged as he reached for the tongs, putting some of each into his plate. "I'll catch you around Clint." Bruce said as he walked away. Clint extended his hand to put the tongs back, the metal falling to the counter before the ground.

"Dammit." Clint muttered, reaching down to pick up the metal. He picked it up, handing it off to a worker behind the counter.

He grabbed his two containers of food, heading back down the hall to the elevator. He took the car up, pressing the button for his floor as the doors shut.

"Agent Barton, Mr. Stark is asking if you will be participating in Movie night tonight." FRIDAY's voice echoed in the car.

"Ahhh shit, I forgot about that." Clint muttered. "Tell Stark that Natasha and I are probably staying in for the night, I will get with him tomorrow about those arrows."

"Yes, Agent Barton." FRIDAY responded as the elevator doors opened and Clint limped into the hallway.

He had just walked through the door when he heard his phone going off. He pulled it out of his pocket, seeing it was Tony he ignored it, letting the phone continue to ring as he placed it onto the coffee table knowing that he was probably going to give him a hard time for skipping out on movie night but he had just come back from a mission and was pretty tired.

Clint walked into the kitchen, grabbing him some silverware and a sport drink out of the fridge before he settled onto the couch, flipping on the television as he opened his Styrofoam container.

"Did you get me anything?" he heard a voice echo down the hall.

Clint jumped, letting out a yelp, not realizing he wasn't alone. "Didn't realize you had made it up!" he yelled as he stuffed a bite of food in his mouth.

"I was taking a shower." Natasha told him walking to the end of the hall, wringing out her wet hair with a towel, eyeing the food before heading back towards the bathroom.

"Your debrief was quicker than mine." He pouted. "I thought you had some stuff to catch up on?" he asked loudly.

"I can do it tomorrow." She shrugged walking back into the room, grabbing an egg roll off his plate.

"Hey!" he cried. "That was mine!"

"Not anymore Barton." She smirked, settling down onto the other side of the sofa, tucking her toes under his leg.

"You suck."

Natasha laughed, wiggling her toes as Clint rolled his eyes.

The rest of the night was peaceful, catching up on one of the recordings they had saved on the DVR. Clint got up, changing his clothes into something more comfortable before unpacking and repacking his go bag, setting it down next to the door. Natasha laid her head onto his shoulder as he sat back down before both made the silent agreement to go to bed, exhaustion from the mission and events of the past few days taking its toll. Clint closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow, looking at the red head across from him as sleep quickly overcome him.

_Clint pulled on his rope that was attached to the hook, his cheeks red from the cold, but his breathing hard from fighting. He was determined to end this, he would be the one to fall, not her._

_"Damn you." He said, looking at her as they both struggled with the weight of gravity. He checked his line one more time, seeing they were out of line before using his free hand to reach out for hers. He almost had her, his gloved hand within inches of grabbing the hand he was already clutching, the tension in the line making things difficult as he felt his grasp begin to loosen. _

_He glanced down at her. "Let me go." She whispered._

_"No." He choked, tears filling his eyes. "No. Please no."_

_'She can't do this.' He thought._

_She nodded her head. "It's ok." She whispered, studying him one more time before using the rockface as her leverage to pull her wrist from his grasp, allowing her to free fall. _

Clint jolted awake, his body tense and sweaty, his breathing harsh, his head splitting in pain. He looked over at the other side of the bed, seeing it empty, causing his heartrate to increase.

"Nat?" he called out, putting his bare feet on the cold floor as he opened the bedroom door. "Natasha?"

Silence followed as he looked around the apartment before walking out the door, thinking of where she might be as he walked to the end of the hall, taking the stairs up three floors. He pushed back the door, the cold chill of the fall air knocking the breath out of his lungs as the sun shone on his face.

"Natasha?" he asked again.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to find me." She smiled, her feet dangling over the side of the building.

Clint looked at her, puzzled. "Tash, what are you doing?"

She looked out over the Hudson River. "I didn't want to wake you."

Clint moved slowly, propping his upper body against the top of the ledge. This was their go to spot for when they couldn't sleep, when they needed to clear their heads.

Natasha turned her head. "Are you ok?"

Clint studied her for a second. "Better now." He gently smiled, taking her right hand into his left as he turned and watched the sunrise, the heat warming his face as he closed his eyes.

"Clint? Clint? Barton!" someone yelled.

He opened his eyes. "What?" he asked, turning his head to see Steve Rogers, Natasha no longer by his side.

"I've been talking to you for the past few minutes, you were mumbling about something. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Wish everyone would stop asking me that." He gruffed, turning to walk away, stumbling over his footing. "I'm heading down to the kitchen."

Steve looked at his team member's retreating figure, concern written on his face.

Clint lazily walked down the stairs, heading to the floor above his that was the common place for all the Avengers. He pulled open the door, walking past the living room and into the kitchen, grabbing him a mug and fixing him a cup of coffee.

"Morning." Stark mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he brushed past Clint, reaching for his own mug. "Never have kids. Morgan kicked me out of my own bed last night. Again."

Clint chuckled "For a seven-year-old she does have a nasty kick."

Tony glared at the archer, "I wonder who she learned that from." He said, gently blowing onto the coffee before taking a sip.

Clint stood against the counter, looking innocent as Bruce walked in, holding a stack of papers. "Tony. I think I finally found the designs for that thing you had asked me about a few days ago."

Tony took another quick sip from his cup before setting it on the counter, picking up the first paper from the stack as Clint began to open and close drawers.

"Merida? You looking for something?"

"Yeah the bottle of ibuprofen, my head is killing me this morning."

Tony walked over, grabbing the bottle that was sitting on the counter, handing it over. "I would say so, this bottle hasn't moved in years." Clint screwed off the cap, pouring a few pills out into his hand before popping them into his mouth and washing them down with another sip of coffee.

"Anyone seen Natasha?" Clint asked.

Bruce and Tony shared a look. "Clint, are you feeling ok?

"Fine." He shrugged, looking around. "Before I forget, I was talking to Natasha a few nights ago about the arrows and realized she hasn't had any new upgrades to her widow bites, and with her birthday coming up soon I thought I would surprise her."

Both men looked at Clint before Bruce spoke first "Clint… There's no easy way to say this but-"

"Stark. Banner. I need to borrow you for a moment." Steve stated, gesturing for them to move into the living room. "Somethings not right." He said once he was far enough away, keeping his voice low to prevent Clint from hearing.

"Yeah Cap, I gotta say that color of shirt does nothing for your hair."

Steve ignored him. "Somethings up with Clint. I walked out onto the roof this morning and he was just standing there, talking to himself, not making any sense."

"You're kidding! I'll call the psych ward, tell them that we have a human on our hands." Tony stated sarcastically.

"No, this is different-"

"I think Steve's right." Bruce spoke up. "Last night in the cafeteria, he mentioned something that he hasn't talked about in a long time, he- he mentioned Natasha."

Steve looked upset while Tony looked shocked. "He- He mentioned her? Like how?" Steve asked.

"He said he didn't want to keep her awake."

While the other men were conversing, Clint was pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and cabinets to make breakfast when he glanced over at one of the barstools.

"Pancakes or Waffles?" he asked.

"French Toast."

"Tash. Pancakes or Waffles?"

"French. Toast."

Clint sighed. "There is no winning with you is there? French toast it is." He said pushing the ingredients to make a batter, to the side.

Natasha raised her hands in victory as Clint laughed, "See? Compromise." She told him as he warmed up the griddle before looking in the cabinet for a loaf of bread.

"тебе повезло я люблю тебя." He mumbled. (_You're lucky I love you._)

Natasha smiled. "Do you want to spar later? We haven't done that in a few weeks."

"Sure, I do love kicking your ass."

"My ass? It's your ass that's going to get kicked Barton."

"Wanna bet Romanoff?"

"Clint?" Bruce asked as he entered the kitchen. "Who are you talking to?"

Clint furrowed his brow. "What do you mean 'Who am I talking to', I am talking to Natasha."

Bruce looked at him for a second. "Clint… Natasha's not here."

"Yeah she is."

"Clint…" Bruce slowly stated, not sure how to approach the topic. "There's no easy way to tell you this but Natasha is dead."

"No…" Clint told him, his heart rate increasing "Natasha is sitting right there." He gestured, glancing over to where she was sitting on the barstool.

"Clint, Natasha died on Vormir three years ago." Steve commented, leaning up against the wall.

Clint's breathing accelerated. "No-No she- No she didn't." He shook his head, glancing to where she _had_ been sitting.

"Tony?" He asked the billionaire that stood across the kitchen. "Did Natasha put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Clint, Romanoff died three years ago. Something happened on Vormir while you two were getting the soul stone, the only thing you told us was a soul for a soul."

"No." Clint repeated the word as he began to pace back and forth. "What do you mean she- she's dead?"

"Clint, you need to calm down." Steve said, taking a step forward.

"Calm Down. Calm Down? You think I need to calm down, after you just told me that my partner is dead!" he said, his voice raising with each word.

The other three men stood there, "Clint, there's something bigger going on here."

"SHUT UP!" he yelled, swiping his arm at the items on the counter, sending the breakfast items flying as Tony, Steve and Bruce ducked. "She can't be dead." He stated, pacing the floor with his hands behind his head. "I jus talk- talked to her. She sleep in my roo-room las ni-nigh."

"Clint?" Bruce took a step forward, just in time to catch the archer before he fell headfirst into the counter. "Tony!" he exclaimed as he lowered Clint to the floor. "Throw me that blanket off the back of the couch! Steve, get this stuff out of the way. FRIDAY, I need you to contact Medical, tell them where we are, and that Barton is having a seizure!"

Both men broke into action, as Bruce done what he could as they waited for Clint to come out of the convulsion. "FRIDAY, I need vitals."

"Agent Barton's heart rate is 136, and his oxygen level is at 84 percent." She informed him as Clint's body stopped thrashing.

"What the hell?" asked Tony.

"I don't know. I think there is more going on here than what we're aware of." Bruce thought aloud. "Clint? Clint? Can you hear me? Steve, let's get him rolled over onto his side."

Steve helped Bruce roll him onto his side as the elevator doors opened, Carly and a nurse running off, pulling a stretcher behind them. "What have we got?"

"Agent Barton had a seizure lasting approximately two minutes and is currently unconscious. His speech was slurred beforehand there's more, but this is now." Bruce told her. "His airway is clear and vitals are stable."

Carly leaned over, placing her fist in the middle of Clint's chest preforming a sternal rub, to which his body reacted to. "Has this happened before?"

"We're not sure, he's been away for over a week."

"Agent Barton? Can you hear me? Was he complaining about anything before this happened?" She asked as she began checking over his body for any obvious injuries or issues.

"He said he had a migraine." Said Tony.

"Ok, let's get him onto the stretcher." She directed, having the three men pick up different parts of his body, laying him onto the foam. "You said there was more?" She asked, strapping him down.

"We believe he has been hallucinating. He's mentioned Natasha, his former partner, several times since returning, referring to her as if she was present."

"Alright, that could mean a variety of things." She said to her aid as she began wheeling him away. "Let's get him started on fifteen liters of O2, and a normal bag of saline. Let's have him taken for an EEG, CT and MRI, let's also pull his type from his file and have it in the cooler." She said as they got onto the elevator, riding it down.

Clint moaned, the bright lights of the hallway assaulting his vision. "Wha-?"

"Agent Barton? It's Doctor Anderson, we're taking you to the med wing, you've had a seizure."

Clint glanced at the doctor, "Sei- Seizure?"

"Yes, we've got to run some tests."

Clint turned his to the opposite side. "Na-Natasha?" he asked noticing the red head walking along the hall with them.

"It's okay Clint." She smiled. "Get some rest."

Clint closed his eyes again, suddenly feeling very tired.

When Clint woke again, it was due to the constant flow of air running through his nose, something that was annoying.

"Hospital." He mumbled, opening his eyes slowly, lifting his left hand up, feeling the familiar pinch of an IV in his hand. His senses becoming more aware by the second as he looked around the room. Normally you would expect some kind of pale color, followed by some heinous paintings. But since the building was newer, it was more casual, offering a better color palate with paintings selected by the members of the Avengers themselves.

"You're awake." Tony spoke as he entered the room.

"Unfortunately." Clint said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would much rather be asleep, it's like being dead without the commitment."

"You almost were Clinton, gave us quite the scare."

"Call me Clinton again _Anthony_ and you'll wish you were being pumped full of morphine." Clint threatened as he pushed the button that moved his bed up.

Steve knocked on the wooden door, walking into the room. "You two can't go two minutes without talking about murder can you." He stated, letting out a sigh. "How are you feeling Clint?"

"I'd really like for everyone to stop asking me that, I feel fine." He said as he glanced at the needle in his hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Tony mumbled as Clint proceeded to do what he wanted.

"Stop picking at your IV." Steve warned.

"I'm not picking at my IV." Clint countered.

"Clint, it's in there for a reason."

Clint shrugged, he wasn't going to remove the needle, he scratched around the outside of the IV, the tape beginning to itch. "What am I doing down here anyways? Did something happen?"

"What do you remember?"

"I remember having Doctor Anderson patch me up, getting some food in the cafe that's about it."

"You don't remember anything else?" Tony probed.

"No, should I?" Clint asked, furrowing his eyebrow. "I didn't do something stupid did I?"

"No, nothing stupid." Steve was quick to reassure him. "I think we should wait for Car- Doctor Anderson to come in before we do anything else."

"I haven't broken any bones and I see no new bandages, and I am not in pain so there has to be something. What is it?"

"Clint I-" Steve began before being interrupted.

"It's serious."

"Tony." Steve warned.

"He wants to know. I think we should be the ones to tell him."

Steve sighed. "Let me call Banner, he can try to help with any questions." He said as he gave in.

Almost ten minutes later, Bruce hurriedly walked through the door, a tablet in hand. "Clint! You're awake. How are-"

"I wouldn't ask that if I were you." Tony informed him.

Bruce nodded his head appreciatively. "Steve said it was urgent."

"Clint wants to know what's going on and Tony believes we should be the ones to tell him."

"What about Thor? Shouldn't he be here for this?" Clint wondered aloud.

"Thor's a few hundred light years away with the guardians. He should be back one day next week." Tony told him, taking a seat on the couch in the corner of the room.

Clint adjusted his posture. "So, what's the verdict? How long do I have?" All the men in the room looked to Clint, an obvious sadness on their faces. "Oh come on guys, it was a joke." He stated, giving a nervous chuckle, oblivious to how his friends looked at each other.

"Clint," Bruce started. "You have something called a Oligodendroglioma. Don't bother trying to pronounce it. From what we can tell, it's a low-grade tumor located in your temporal lobe which means your chances are greater, and it can most likely be treated with surgery to remove the tissue followed by radiation and chemotherapy."

Clint stared at Bruce, finding it hard to believe a word he was saying until he seen the scans they took of his brain.

"I've spent a few hours researching it, and the survival rate is good, almost ninety percent. We- we believe this is the reason behind your hallucinations." Tony assured him.

"I knew it was too good to be true." He whispered to himself. "Natasha… She's not real, is she?"

He was met with silence, a sad smile forming on his face as he nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check. "What's uh-" he started, clearing his voice. "What are my options again?"

"Doctor Anderson will go over that with you, as well as the neurosurgeon, but your main option is surgery."

"I am having the country's best neurosurgeon flown out as we speak." Inputted Tony.

"And the tumor, it's causing the hallucinations?"

"Among other things yes." Bruce informed him. "Though the tumor has been there for a while, its side effects have appeared suddenly. We believe you've been having focal seizures, memory loss and mood swings over the past few weeks that are gradually increasing, as well as recently procuring trouble speaking, which is going to make talking difficult sometimes, so don't get upset."

"And the migraines I've been having?"

"Those are a result of the pressure that the tumor is causing, because it has nowhere to go."

Clint nodded, the silence of the room becoming too much as he looked around, seeing the sad faces of his friends. "Can- Can I get a few minutes alone? This is a lot to process."

Steve patted his leg as Tony firmly squeezed his shoulder, all three men leaving the room.

Clint Barton tended to keep his emotions in check, something that had been pounded into him (literally) from a very young age, but now…

"God dammit." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You kiss me with that mouth?"

He ignored the voice, she was the last person he wanted to _see._ Clint kept his eyes closed, turning his head in the opposite direction, crossing his arms defensively.

"Ignoring me are you Barton? What are you five?"

He could imagine was she looked like right then. Her green eyes sparkling in amusement, her lips curled into a smile. Her hair would be braided, just like it was when he spotted her through his crosshairs. She would be dressed in one of his shirts and her favorite pair of leggings.

"You know instead of imagining me, you could just turn you head and see for yourself."

Clint muttered a mantra under his breath, squeezing his eyes closed. "She's not real." He kept telling himself.

"If I wasn't real would I be able to do this?" She said having enough of his games as she reached down, squeezing one of the pressure points of his right foot.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he opened his eyes, an alarm going off on his heart monitor as he reached for his foot, rubbing the sensitive area. "Why did you do that for!?"

"It got your attention didn't it." She told him, looking at him with a neutral face.

"Go away." He muttered.

"Can't." she shrugged, taking a seat on the couch.

"Agent Barton! Are you alright?" Doctor Anderson asked as she walked in, Steve following behind her, a cup in his hand.

"Just peachy." He replied as the ghost as he was referring to her as now, laughed.

"Your monitor says otherwise." She said, resetting the device.

"Is that for me?" Clint asked, gesturing towards the cup in Steve's hand.

Steve held it out. "It's as black as can be."

Clint eagerly stretched out his hand, taking the hot drink. He blew on it softly before taking a quick sip, cursing when he burnt is tongue.

"Идиот." He heard her scoff. (_Idiot_.)

Clint glared at where she was supposedly sitting. "So, Carly, I hear I am dying but not dying."

"You're not dying Clint." Steve said, taking a seat on the couch.

"Don't sit there!" Clint exclaimed just as Steve was about to sit down. "I mean- uh- can you sit on the opposite side please?"

Steve gave him a peculiar look before nodding his head, sitting on the opposite side. "You're seeing her again, aren't you?"

Clint sheepishly nodded his head. "Yeah, she's sitting where you were about to sit down."

"Why are you talking about me like I'm not here?" she huffed.

"Because you're not Natasha!" Clint spoke angrily, his voice rising as the alarm on the monitor went off again. "You- You are not here."

Natasha rolled her eyes, throwing her legs over Steve's lap. "Whatever you say Clinton."

Clint ignored her knowing she called him that when she was pissed. "So, about this surgery, what are we talking here?"

Doctor Anderson reset his heart monitor again, increasing the alert on the electrocardiogram before she sat down onto the bed, going into detail about what needed to happen before and during the surgery. "Afterwards, you'll be able to go home after a few days once we feel comfortable, followed by starting radiation and chemo therapies as soon as possible."

Clint nodded his head. "Rad- Radiation therapy? Now that will give me superpowers, right?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "You wish Clint."

"Not really. I would rather not have to do any heavier lifting than what's nesse- ness- Oh come on!"

"It's ok Agent Barton. Do you remember Doctor Banner explaining some of the symptoms earlier?"

"If I'm being honest, I only remember a little." He shrugged.

"The tumor is located at your temporal lobe, which controls certain things for your body. Such as your speech and memories, which is why it'll be difficult to speak or recall things. If it would help, I could write some of this down if it would make it easier for you to remember?"

"Like what they did for Izzy in Grey's Anatomy? No thanks." He said before taking another sip of Coffee as all the eyes in the room looked to him. "What?"

"You watch Grey's Anatomy?"

"Religiously." Natasha responded.

"No, I used to. Until they killed off McSteamy."

"It's not like you didn't talk about _that_ for over a month." Said Natasha.

Carly laughed. "Agent Barton, I can assure you there will be no plane crashes happening."

"You can never be sure."

"We do have some paperwork for you to sign off on that I will have a nurse bring to you in a little while. I've booked the OR for 0530 in the morning, and Mr. Stark has a neurosurgeon and former colleague of mine being flown out, who should be arriving anytime now. Is there any one I need to contact before we get started in the morning?"

"It's just me doc." He said solemnly. "But I have all the family I need in this building." He smiled appreciatively towards Steve.

Steve nodded. "Pepper is fixing all your favorites for dinner tonight; we've gotten permission to wheel you upstairs for a while."

"I hope she's not fixing her chicken tetrazzini." Natasha jealously glared.

"Please tell me she's fixing the chicken tetrazzini?"

Steve laughed "That, among other things."

Clint stuck his tongue out childishly at Natasha who was glaring at him still, her arms crossed.

"Natasha?" Steve asked.

"She's pouting." He smiled as a nurse rolled a wheelchair into the room.

* * *

**Part Two will be posted later this week. Feel free to drop a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

The evening was filled with lots of laughter with most of Clint's closest friends. As the evening wore down, Clint began having a hard time getting his wording right, everyone made the excuse of how late it was getting, saying it was time for them to turn in out of politeness for their favorite archer.

"Now, we've all agreed that over the next few weeks, every single one of us are going to support you 100%. Meaning you're going to get sick of seeing our beautiful faces all the time." Tony told him as he wheeled Clint back down to his hospital room.

"I ass- assume you volunteered to take first shift?"

"Correct." Tony nodded as he got him into the room, putting the brakes on the chair before assisting Clint up and into the bed.

"You didn't have to do that Stark."

"I know." He smiled, hanging Clint's IV bag back onto the pole.

"I was wondering when you would be back." A feminine voice spoke.

"Sohn einer Hündin!" he cursed. (_Son of a Bitch!_)

"Bless you?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Why are you here?"

"We just went ov-"

"Not you St-Stark." Clint said exasperated. "Tash. Why are you here?"

"Technically I'm not."

"Real-realistically you are."

Tony took a seat next to the bed. "This is like when Morgan used to play tea party."

"Shut up Tony. What do you want Nat?" He asked sitting up in the bed, suddenly not feeling tired as she leaned up against the wall.

"You wanted me here."

"No. I really don't."

"It's complicated Clint."

Clint snorted. "No, it's not! I have a tumor, you're a result of the tumor."

"Way to make a girl feel welcome."

"Can I get subtitles here? So I know what's going on?"

"Shut up Tony." Said Natasha.

"Natasha said to shut up." He said turning towards Tony. "You've been dead for three years Nat, how else did you expect me to wel-welcome you? This isn't a romantic movie!"

"I've been around for weeks Clint, we've talked, we've kissed, we've had _sex_-"

"In ret-ro-retro- retrospect, that was probably a hand job."

"Woah. TMI there bud."

"-and suddenly they tell you that I am a figment of your imagination and it's all 'why are you here Natasha?' or 'what do you want Natasha?'."

"You've got to understand, the last time I seen you, you _died_. You _killed_ yourself for me. You jerked your wrist out of my hand when we could have come up with another plan to get the stone."

"We didn't have time!"

"We could have made time!" he yelled. "We could have- It should have been me Nat, you had come so far, had so much to live for. I should have been the one. I should have cut my line. You should have stayed, you should be here, not me. Why- Why did you- did you-?"

"Barton!" Tony yelled, grabbing his hand. "Look at me! Look. At. Me."

Clint turned his head slowly, a stoic look on his face, his eyes glassy.

"You need to take a breath and calm down." Tony told him. "You can't change what happened. And you'll always blame yourself. But blaming yourself, blaming her is not going to change anything. You are the one in control. You. Not the tumor. Only you can choose to let go, or you can choose to hold on. I've chose to let go, live the best life I can have, be the best dad I can be. I almost died that day, fighting Thanos for the first time. I should have died wielding the stones the second time. But, I didn't, I'm still breathing and so are you. You're going to kick this cancer's ass and we are all going to be with you, every step of the way."

The room was quiet for several moments, before Clint spoke. "Does Steve know you stole one of his speeches?"

Tony began to chuckle, Clint joining in.

The next morning, the constant sound of nurses coming in and out of the room, prepping him for surgery woke him up at five o'clock as if he got any sleep.

Clint turned onto his side, covering his head with a spare pillow. "Can I just have Five more minutes please." He groaned.

"No can-do princess." He heard Tony's voice tell him from the other side of the room where a pull-out bed was set up. "If I'm up, you're up." Tony pulled the pillow off his head. "I've got something for you." He said sitting what had to be the world's smallest shot glass down onto the bedside table. "You better drink it fast too. I don't want this to come back onto me."

Clint rolled over, his brow furrowed as he observed the glass before lifting it up, smelling the dark liquid. "Is this? Is this coffee?"

"Yes, now toss it back before someone comes in."

Clint chuckled, tossing the drink back, setting the glass back down onto the table to which Tony quickly grabbed, stuffing it into a pocket.

"Agent Barton, how are you feeling this morning?" Carly asked as she walked through the door, a man flowing behind her.

"Ready to get this over with."

"It'll be over before you know it. Clint, this is Doctor Keannen Weaver who will be preforming your surgery. "

"Mister Barton, I am hoping that everything goes smoothly, and we can accomplish a lot today." The doctor nodded.

"You and me both doc."

After answering some generalized questions, the doctors had left to go prep as Bruce and Steve came in.

Steve helped Clint get moved over onto the bed that would take him to the operating room and soon they were rolling down the hall, passing many people he had fought with along the way who had come to give their well wishes. Sam Wilson, James Rhodes, Peter Parker and T'Challa to name a few.

"Why does hallway seem to go on and on?" Clint brokenly asked in his drug-induced state before he began humming.

"If you remember this when you get out, remind me to show you something." Tony told him, clutching his hand as he continued to walk beside him down the hall.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Natalia Alianovna Romanova." He began repeating in his delirious state.

"I'm right here Clint."

Clint smiled, his eyes drooping. "Я люблю тебя." (_I love you._)

"I know." Were the last words he heard, as he fell unconscious.

_Clint had just stepped out onto the porch, the night air cool as he turned around, pulling the door shut, balancing two drinks in one hand. _

_"Your drink, my lady." He extended his hand, handing her her glass before sitting down onto the wooden swing, taking a swig from the amber colored bottle in his other hand. _

_The swing rocked back and forth slowly, Clint's muddy boots helping it along. _

_"Do you ever think- do you ever think about what we're missing out on?" She asked, staring out at the fields ahead. _

_"What do you mean?" _

_"This." She gestured out in front of her "The farm, the kids, the family."_

_Clint took another drag from his bottle, thinking about what she was asking. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think about what it might be like, having two-point-five kids, the dog, a herd of cattle, maybe some chickens. But, that's not me, that's not us. We didn't grow up with that. We're constantly on the go, never knowing where we might go next, never knowing if it's the last time. Hell, we can rarely stay in one place longer than a few months."_

_"We've stayed at the compound for almost two years."_

_"Yeah but we're only there when we have to be. We mainly stay at the apartment."_

_"Which we've had for… forever. So see, we can stay in one place longer than we care for." She told him. "And all the safe houses."_

_Clint chuckled, "Don't remind me."_

_"Name three constants in your life." Natasha asked, resting her head on his shoulder. _

_"You, food and arrows."_

_"Seriously?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him._

_"Seriously." He smiled, taking her left hand into his right, intertwining their fingers. "Your turn."_

_"Let's see here, this might take a few." She teased. "Bites, Bruises and You."_

_"Bites and bruises huh?"_

_"My widow bites Идиот." (Idiot)_

_"I thought you were talking about-"_

_Natasha cut him off with a heated kiss._

_"What was that for?"_

_"You were talking too much."_

_Clint leaned his head forward, kissing her again before pulling back. "Ready to head inside?"_

_"You read my mind Barton."_

The first time Clint woke, he didn't have enough energy to open his eyes, let alone move. He heard the low sounds of someone off to the side of him and went back to sleep.

The second time was more progressive, Sam had been sitting next to the bed, scrolling through his phone when he heard a moan and Clint briefly open his eyes before shutting them tight. His heart monitor going off as the pain became too much.

The third time, Clint woke, he tried moving his right hand which felt too heavy, he looked down, finding Tony laying on top of it. "Tony." His voice croaked from the dryness as he tried to pull it out from under him, failing to do so.

"You're awake." Steve quietly observed as he walked through the door.

Clint stared at him, finding it too difficult to move his head.

Steve moved over to the bed, filling a cup with water and a straw, holding it in front of Clint's face, helping him by getting the cup to his mouth. "Drink it slowly."

Clint done as he was told, finishing the drink, adjusting his position in the bed slowly.

"Do you need anything?"

"No." he said, clearing his throat. "Maybe some feeling back into my hand would be nice."

Steve smiled "Tony." He said louder than normal.

The man woke with a jolt. "Yeah?"

"Clint would like his hand back."

It took Tony a moment to process what Steve had said, his head quickly turning to the left. "You're awake!"

Clint stared at him as he and Steve began to talk about how the surgery was a success and that they were confident they got all of the tumor.

Clint only made it a few minutes before he felt his eyelids slowly closing.

The next time Clint woke was due to the immense amount of pain. He opened his eyes, seeing Rhodey standing at the window on the phone. He made a noise, getting the Colonels attention.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Rhodey told him as he walked over.

"Hurts."

Rhodey pressed the button to give him a slight increase in his pain medications before fixing Clint a cup of water, helping him drink.

"Better?"

Clint nodded his head, feeling the extra weight of the bandage. "Where's my hair?"

Rhodey let out a chuckle. "They had to shave it. But don't worry, it'll grow back eventually. In the meantime, welcome to the Bald Heads of America Association."

Clint droopily smiled, "You the president of the club or something?"

As the days went by, the more active Clint became.

"Bullseye!" he rejoiced as the arrow hit its target.

"This game is rigged!" Tony cried.

"You're playing against the best archer in the world, Tony. What did you expect?" Steve told him from across the room, not looking up from the paperwork he was filling out.

Tony silently agreed, "What about beer pong?"

"Last time I played, me and Natasha both got alcohol poisoning." He said in disgust, snarling his nose. "I'd rather not."

"No alcohol with your meds."

"You're like a vacuum Rogers, you just suck the fun out of everything. What about… Jenga?"

Clint shrugged as Tony went in search of the game. Thirty minutes later, Clint had won.

"How'd you do that? It's literately impossible."

"Not really, it's quite simple actually."

A knock on the door interrupted Tony's comeback as Doctor Anderson walked in. "Agent Barton, I hope we're feeling better today?"

"A little, it'd be better if I didn't have this pain in the ass bugging me. Is there something you can do about it?"

Carly laughed "I'm afraid not, but I can discharge you."

"Seriously?"

Carly nodded "There's a few things about your care we need to discuss and some new medications to talk about. What's your pain level?"

"A two, maybe a three."

"That's better. What about your vision?"

"Tony has lipstick on the edge of his lips, Steve has gum on the bottom of his shoe, and you are missing an earring."

"I'd say you are about as good as can be."

The doctor stayed, going over the medication and discharge information before talking about the radiation and chemo therapies.

If present Clint could go back a week, and warn his past self, he would. He would never wish this on anyone, maybe his worst enemies but never anyone he cared about.

"So, I was thinking about making it retractable but there are cons to doing that such the arrow chasing people around." Tony stated from the doorway of the bathroom. Ever since the surgery, someone had been staying with Clint around the clock.

"That's- That got to be the worst- the worst idea you've ever had."

"You good?" he asked stepping into the bathroom, wrapping a hand around Clint's waist.

"Now that I've puked my guts out. Again. Sure Tony." He sighed as they made their way out of the bathroom, back to the reclining chair in the living room of Clint's apartment. "Nothing like having to taste Pedialyte and Saltines for a second time."

"You wanna try soup?"

"I want it to stop."

"Too late bud, just a few more weeks of the radiation."

"Yeah and then checkups and chemo pills for life. Yay."

The next few weeks Clint was more bed bound than ever and going stir crazy. He had lost weight, both muscle and mass, making him weak. And he hated being weak. The radiation treatments had come to an end, the latest MRI scans showing him in the clear as he continued taking his chemotherapy pills. Slowly, he began to gain energy back, the 'hounds' as he had begun referring to his friends had consulted Doctor Anderson who had allowed him to begin minimal strength and conditioning training.

Clint was working on his strength, Bruce keeping a close eye on him when Tony approached him.

"Do you by chance remember what I told you before you went into surgery?"

Clint thought for a second, "No? Why?"

"Come with me." Tony told him.

Tony led him out of the gym and to his working lair as they called it.

"Is this about those arrows you were telling me about a few weeks ago? Because no offense Tony but I would rather not have murderous arrows flying around on their own."

Tony stayed silent, pressing a button that Clint had never noticed before.

As they walked in, the lights automatically turned on the further back they walked in the hallway like space.

"Are you bringing me here to murder me?"

Tony laughed, which frightened Clint even more.

"Listen, Tony I know I've been an ass over the past few months but that's no reason-"

Clint stopped short when he seen what Tony had in his hand.

"Wha- What- What are you doing with that?" he asked, his throat constricting. "Where did you get that?"

Tony smiled sadly, admiring the fabric in his hands. "We had to do something with the suits. So, instead of them ending up in a museum, I kept them."

"This thing probably smells." Clint said, holding the clothes hanger in one hand, the other hand grasping the red and white material that he hadn't seen in there years. "Tony, why are you showing me this?"

Tony turned towards the opposite wall, placing his thumbprint on a scanner, entering an eight-digit code.

"Does it want a blood sacrifice too?" Clint joked.

Tony pulled a lever, which opened a sealed box inside the wall. He reached in, pulling something out.

"This isn't the only vial of Pym Particles we have, changing the past will not change our future but I just thought-"

"Why are you giving me this?"

"You have a decision to make."

"About what?"

"Her."

"I'm not doing this." Clint told Tony, shoving the suit back into the billionaire's hands like it was stolen cash. "I can't do this."

"I'm not asking you to rob a bank Barton, I'm giving you the option to see her."

"Why?"

"Those hallucinations that you were having? That's the happiest I've seen you in _years_ Clint. If you go back, you'd have to observe from a far, no contact unless…" Tony moved around Clint.

"I had honestly forgot about this, most of the stuff I work on today is for cleaner energy or for Morgan." He said as he rummaged through a box. "It's not mine anyways but I had it at the cabin and had no use for it so I brought it here. Ha!" He said pulling a small circular disk out of the box. "SHIELD tech. I believe Natasha used it once, it can change your face without the cosmetics and with you having nothing but peach fuzz for hair, you wouldn't have to wear a wig unless you wanted to."

Clint looked at the small disk in his hand. "I remember her telling me about this, always wanted to try it but I thought it got destroyed when the triskelions fell and Hydra took over."

"We managed to find a few."

"Thank you Tony." Clint said, pulling him in for a hug.

"You know, for an assassin and spy you are quite emotional."

Clint playfully shoved him away, glaring at him.

"Just wait until I am able to kick your ass again."

"I wouldn't doubt it bud. Now, if and when you want to use it, just tell me so I can be there to help get you back and forth. I don't want you doing anything stupid like getting stuck or running into your former self."

"I never do anything stupid." He smirked.

Weeks went by, Clint progressing more every day, finally being cleared for moderate work.

"FRIDAY? Is Tony on site today?" Clint asked as he nocked another arrow onto the string.

"Mr. Stark is currently working in his lair. Would you like for me to tell him something?"

FRIDAY had gotten used to Clint asking her to ask his teammates things he couldn't remember or if he needed help with.

"Nah. I will go to him. Thanks FRIDAY." He said as he fired the arrow.

Clint cleaned up his materials, retrieving the arrows in his target, before leaving the firing range, taking the elevator up to Tony.

Clint knocked, entering the room.

"You working on something important?" Clint asked, walking towards Tony.

"I am working on making Morgan some boosters for her new repulsor jets."

"And Pepper is ok with this?"

"What Pepper doesn't know won't hurt her." Tony smirked, pointing a wrench at Clint. "What can I help you with Robin?"

"I want to do it." Tony dropped the wrench, looking at Clint.

"Today?"

He nodded.

"Right now."

He nodded again.

"Alright, have you chosen what time you want to go to?" Tony said, wiping the grease off his hands.

"I have."

"Well, let's go."

When Clint hit the button, he felt his stomach sink at the thought of the last time he had been through the quantum-realm, but that thought diminished as he landed on his feet.

* * *

**Update will be posted next week! **


	3. Chapter 3

"Well Shit." Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his goatee as he eyed the monitors around him.

"Tony." A voice spoke from behind him, startling him, the heavy footsteps signifying only one person. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." He spoke quickly, his voice higher than normal before he cleared his throat. "I mean… I am just checking on something."

"You're hiding something." Steve said, crossing his arms.

"No I'm not." He defended, moving his body to hide what was behind him. "How'd you find me anyways?"

"FRIDAY."

Tony nodded his head, making a mental note to have a talk with his AI. "Yeah well-" he started speaking as an alarm sounded. "Move about three steps to the left please."

Steve done as he was asked, his brow furrowed before a nostalgic sound reached his ears.

"How'd it go?" Tony asked, stepping out from behind his work space and around the super soldier in his way.

"Much better on the landing this time, ho dimenticato quanto amo caffè corretto."

"I have no idea what you just said but I assume it was a success?"

Clint smirked. "It couldn't have gone smoother, thanks Tony."

"Someone want to explain to me what the hell is going on?" Steve asked, propping up against the equipment behind him.

Clint looked at Tony, both men forgetting about the taller man in the room. Tony shrugged at Clint. Clint shrugged at Tony.

"Clint's been using up his frequent flyer miles."

Steve gave them an incredulous look.

Clint sighed, "I've been going back to the past."

"Tony, I thought we talked about this. Once the stones were returned, none of us were to go back."

Tony thought for a second. "We all deserve a chance to be happy Steve. Why can't Clint?"

"You know, Bruce did say that even if I did something stupid, it wouldn't affect our timeline, only create a new one." Clint added.

"Have you gone to the future?"

"No."

"Done something stupid while there?"

"Depends. But for this, No."

"Had any interaction with someone from then?"

"I petted a dog the other day."

Steve stood straight, beginning to pace back and forth.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Once or twice a week over the past few months."

Steve nodded. "I assume you're using fail safes?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yes Stephen. You do remember that I am a spy correct?"

"Where?"

"Some of the locations are classified but the ones I can tell you are Istanbul, Kandahar, Melbourne, Edmonton, and New Mexico to name a few."

"New Mexico?" Tony asked.

"I wanted to see a God lift a hammer again." Clint shrugged.

"Barton! Do you realize what could have happened if you had been caught?"

"Relax." He said with a dismissal of his hand. "Everyone was too focused on the hammer to notice any discrepancy."

Steve ran a hand down his face. "Just be more careful, ok?"

Clint nodded, slipping his bracelet and disfiguring tool off, handing them back to Tony before walking out of the workspace.

A few weeks prior, Clint had finally been cleared for field work, a new mission coming in before his head hit the pillow that night.

"Agent Barton, your presence is requested in the conference room."

Clint sighed, _'They better not be trying to give me another partner.' _He thought, remembering the way he had literally locked his new 'partner' in a broom closet after the man had almost blown the mission.

"Thanks FRIDAY." Clint took the elevator down, pushing all of his problems down with it.

By the time he got off the elevator, he was more _Agent_ or _Hawkeye_ than Clint.

"Director." Clint said as he walked in.

Clint was assigned a deep undercover mission, something he felt like he could finally handle after being out for so long, slowly easing his way back into the field.

_Seven Months Later_

"Uncle Clint!" a child's voice rang out from the team's kitchen as he walked up the stairs.

"Momo!" Clint said as he dropped his go bag onto the floor, quickly sweeping up the child running towards him. "How's my favorite niece?"

Morgan giggled. "Uncle Clinnntt! I'm your only niece."

Clint groaned as he attempted to pick up the now eight-year-old.

"Morgan!" Pepper said, quickly stepping into the room, flour on the apron wrapped around her waist. "What's our rule when someone returns after being gone?"

Morgan's face looked guilty, a shy smile as she stepped back. "Give them space because we don't know if they are injured or not."

Pepper nodded. "And?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

"And Welcome home Uncle Clint!" Morgan said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I missed you. Did you bring me something?"

Pepper rolled her eyes, heading back into the kitchen.

"That's all I'm good for huh? What makes you think I brought you something?"

"Mom's making her famous cookies."

"You're worse than your Auntie Nat, you know that?" Clint laughed as he stood, walking back over to his bag.

Morgan smiled as he handed her the small bag. "A new snow globe? From Arizona! Thanks Uncle Clint!"

"Anything for my Momo."

"Anything?" she grinned mischievously.

"Morgan…" Pepper's voice scolded from the kitchen.

"Now, about those cookies… Race you to the kitchen!" He told her, making a run for the entry.

* * *

**Part Four coming soon! **


	4. Chapter 4

"Momo!" Clint exclaimed as he stepped off the elevator.

"Yeah Uncle Clint?" she asked, looking up from her tablet.

"Have you seen your dad around?"

Morgan thought for a few moments. "I think he said he was heading to the lair for a while, something about Dum-E doing something he wasn't supposed to." She shrugged.

"Thanks Mo." Clint grinned, turning towards the stairs. "Wanna join me down on the range for a bow lesson later?"

"Yes!" She squealed.

"I'll be back in two hours!"

Clint found Tony exactly where he was told.

"Katniss. How was the desert?" Tony said, tossing Clint a bulky pair of goggles before jerking his head forward, allowing his wielding mask to fall as he began to wield two pieces of metal together.

"Hot. Miserable. Cold. Scorching. Did I mention hot?"

Tony finished wielding, flipping his mask back up. "You look good, a little tanner" he observed "your hair's growing back out, looks like the curls could rival Bruce's."

"Thanks, Chemo will do that to you."

"I've been working on something while you were gone." Tony told him as he walked around to the opposite side of the room. "I revamped the suit, made it more… you."

He grabbed a brown cardboard box off a table that had been labeled 'DO NOT TOUCH MORGAN.'

Clint suppressed a laugh at the writing on the box, knowing the youngest Stark was too curious for her own good.

Clint opened the flap, before reaching in, pulling the suit out.

"Black and… Purple?"

Tony shrugged. "It's bright and unique."

"I haven't worn purple since the circus days." He told him solemnly as he ran a hand over the material. "Thanks Tony."

"I was tired of the red and white."

He laughed, putting the suit back in the box. "You got enough time to fit me in for an _appointment_ for tomorrow?"

"Of course. Normal time?"

Clint nodded, adjusting the box in his hand as he turned around, heading for the door. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to teach an eight-year-old how to nock a bow."

"No explosions this time Barton!"

The next day, Clint had changed into his new suit, meeting Tony downstairs.

"Where to today, Cassanova?"

"I was thinking… 2014?"

Tony looked at Clint surprised. "Coordinates?"

Clint rattled off a date and time, as well as the latitude and longitude, placing the facial disfiguring device onto his neck, activating it.

"See you in twenty!" Clint smiled as Tony gave him a thumbs up, before pressing the button.

When Clint's feet hit the ground in between what looked like two apartment buildings, the sun was high in the sky, bright enough to be blinding though the temperature was cooler, the air dry. His time suit retracted, a formal three-piece suit taking its place as he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the inner coat pocket before buttoning the jacket. He moved forward towards the sidewalk, the few people on the street paying him no attention as he moved west towards his intended location.

Clint kept his head high, taking in the surroundings as he passed. Cranes could be seen for almost as far as the eye could see, scaffolding lining some sidewalks and the sides of several buildings, tarps draped precariously.

It had only been two weeks since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D, since those working for HYDRA had been ousted and sitting somewhere awaiting prosecution. Two weeks since Natasha had released any and all information of her employer onto the internet for all to see.

Clint passed by a few newspaper boxes, the title of them all falling along the same lines. '_Another secret of S.H.I.E.L.D found'. _

_'Wonder if that's the one that almost gets me killed.' _he pondered as he continued towards his intended location, the building now coming into view.

He checked his watch, seeing that he had about ten minutes till showtime, he went ahead and got into place, easily blending in with the crowd that surrounded the base of the steps.

He held back a smile when he seen a flash of red hair, ignoring the media around her as she forced her way past them, her attorney by her side.

"Ms. Romanoff! Was that the outcome you had expected?"

"What were the conditions in Russia like?"

"What can you say about the authorities associated with HYDRA?"

"Do you know the Winter Soldier personally?"

They talked over top of one another, her attorney stopping halfway down the steps.

"Ms. Romanoff is one woman that risks her life daily, to protect others. My client done her job in order to protect millions which we believe is enough to speak for itself. My client will not be taking any questions." He addressed the crowd before ushering Natasha along down the steps and into a waiting car.

Clint turned, walking away as the crowd began to disperse, his stomach rumbling. He checked his watch, seeing it was early evening, meaning he still had a few hours before he had to return to his time. He decided to change his direction, choosing to head to a little hole in the wall café, that had the best sandwiches a few streets over.

He opened the door, looking around the café before heading back to his normal booth, the one in the back corner closest to the kitchen that also allowed him to have a clear view of the entire room. The waitress came by to take his order. Clint never needing to look at the menu, knew what to get, ordering his 'normal', a sandwich with a side of their house made fries and a black coffee.

Clint shrugged off his jacket and began to do one of his favorite things to do while out in public, people watch. A tall woman walking by the window, muttering to herself. A younger man with horrendous balding, trying to illegally cross the street. Clint laughed to himself, as a girl who more than likely didn't even have her driver license yet, was trying to corral seven dogs on different leashes.

The waitress brought him his cup of coffee, saying she'll return with his meal in a few. Clint grabbed a packet of sugar from a holder on the table, ripping the packet open, stirring it in before blowing onto the hot liquid, taking a sip.

Clint continued to people watch as he enjoyed his meal, noticing how many things had changed since before Thanos's wrath on Earth and throughout the universe, till his own time with the revival of everyone.

He finished his meal, the waitress leaving his ticket order on the table telling him there was no rush, but that Karaoke night would be happening soon. Clint had noticed that the place had begun to fill but not put much thought into it. Not wanting to stick around, he began placing the dirty utensils and napkins onto the plate before reaching for his billfold, leaving a tip and enough money to cover his bill on the table as he threw his suit jacket back on as he walked out the door and onto the street.

The sun had already begun to set, the fall air growing cooler by the minute as the sky darkened and streetlights would soon turn on. Clint would have pressed the button already if it wasn't for the fact that he wanted a few more minutes of peace and nostalgia. The streets began to thin out as he walked further away from the busyness of the nightlife, the people becoming fewer as the cars drove past.

He knew where he was going, really. He just wasn't completely sure how to get there in the dark, it had been over a decade since 2014, so some of the directions were a little foggy. He took a right here, a left there, and back tracked more than once.

And then he heard it. A sound all too familiar to him. He jumped for cover as a bullet went flying right where he had been standing.

"Well Shit." He cursed to himself.

Clint never went anywhere unarmed, pulling a knife out of a holster around his ankle and a gun from the holster of his suspenders. He tracked where the gunfire had come from. Spotting someone standing behind a tree, another in an alleyway.

_'Who did you piss off now Barton?' _he chided himself.

Clint quickly moved to get in a better position. One of the subjects fired again, this time not in his direction but at someone running down the street towards them. Clint had to act fast, not wanting a civilian to get caught in the crosshairs of what ever the other person was trying to accomplish. Clint stood quickly, jumping out from his cover to grab the person.

"What the hell!" he heard a feminine voice exclaim as the person behind the tree fired again, this time the shots closer than before.

"Sorry lady, I didn't think you had a death wish." He scoffed as he stood, returning fire.

"I am capable of handling myself you moron." She told him, careening around the edge of the dumpster they were hiding behind, firing a gun of her own.

"You know what? I'm not even going to ask where you had that at."

Clint crouched back down, finally getting a chance to look at the person whose life get just saved.

"Awww fuck."

Natasha.

He just saved Natasha. _Again_.

The place he was heading to? The park. That he just remembered is near one of the safe houses that she conveniently left out of her files.

Her red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, not a speck of make-up to be seen on her face. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and running shorts, headphones dangled from the collar of the shirt.

"Who are the hostiles?" she asked pulling Clint out of his daze, looking around the corner again.

"No idea."

"So, someone just started shooting at you and you decided to shoot back?"

"Pretty much." He conceded, as another round of bullets was fired. "Do you always run towards gunfire?"

Natasha shrugged "You former law enforcement?"

"Something like that." He said vaguely.

"Who do you work for?"

"No one."

"MI6? Army? FBI? CIA? ATF?"

"None of the above."

Natasha rounded the corner of the dumpster they were behind, shooting a few rounds. "I don't suppose you have any extra ammo do you?" Clint shook his head. "I know you've been following me."

Clint froze, his eyes going wide as he looked at her. "N-no. No I haven't."

"You were in a gift shop in Istanbul, walking down a street with vendors in Greece, in a restaurant in Budapest, posing as a Doctor in Edmonton, the courthouse today. Shall I continue?"

Clint stayed silent. He was an idiot. He always wore different clothes but would only change the hair color or eye color of the man whose face he was using, which didn't mean it would always change his appearance.

"I think you have me confused with someone else."

"No, I don't think I do. We're going to take out these hostiles and then you're going to talk."

Clint sighed. "I'm in so much shit for this."

Natasha stepped out first, Clint behind her. She took out the first person whose cover was nonexistent as she cleared the right side, Clint clearing the left side they worked simultaneously. In the end there was only half a dozen armed men now laying motionless on the ground around them.

"I'll be damned." Natasha cursed, crouching to look at one of the bodies.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

"Not now." She dismissed as she stood, aiming her gun at him. "Now, who the hell are you?"

"I'll answer your question when you answer mine."

Natasha sighed. "They're some guns for hire of my former employer. Your turn."

"You're not going to believe me."

"Nothing would surprise me at this point. Listen, we can do this the easy way or my way."

Clint smirked before remembering what year he was in. "I'm not going to S.H.I.E.L.D"

"S.H.I.E.L.D had been dismantled." she said, her finger going for the trigger. "Now, I suggest you put that gun down."

Clint raised his hands before placing the gun onto the concrete, kicking it over to her.

"Who are you working for? The Red Room?"

"No." he hoarsely spoke. "But in order for me to tell you who I am, I need to do something."

"Don't try anything stupid."

Clint slowly moved a hand down to his neck, pressing the button before swiping a hand over his face.

"Clint?" she said curiously, her finger leaving the trigger for a moment before it was right back on the metal.

"Natasha." He nodded.

"What are you doing in Washington?"

"I'm not here Nat. I'm on a mission in Spain."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Cut the bullshit Barton. You're standing right in front of me."

"Look closer Tash."

Natasha took a hesitant step forward, her gun still sighted on his head. She kept moving until the barrel of her gun was against his forehead. She began to assess him, her gaze lingering on the faint scar that wrapped across his head going from ear to ear, the darkness under his eyes, the tan of his skin contrasting against his white shirt.

"You're not Clint."

"I am. Just not your Clint, well I was your Clint at one point-"

"What are you saying?"

"I am Clint. Just older than what you know."

"Older than what I know?" she questioned before the realization hit her. "You're from the future."

Clint nodded, his eyes searching hers.

"How?"

"It's complicated."

"Why are you here? Why have you been following me?" She asked, the gun still placed on his forehead.

"I-" he started, his words failing to fall from his lips. What was he supposed to say? '_I miss you?' _or _'I needed to see you again?'. _"I- I can't tell you that."

"You've changed."

"Yeah well, a brain tumor, among other things will do that to you."

Sympathy shown in her eyes, only to be gone in a flash.

"Can you put the gun away now?"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't." he smirked. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time left here."

"How'd you get here?"

"You'll find out in a couple of years."

"Probably Stark if I had to guess. Why are you here?" she asked again, putting the gun away.

"I can't tell you."

"Cut the bullshit Barton. We both know that that is a lie."

Clint sighed. "There was something I had to do."

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Like what."

"I-" Clint hesitated. "I wanted to see you again."

Natasha stayed silent for a while. "So, you're saying…"

Clint nodded solemnly. "I can't- won't tell you how."

"You said you don't have long here, why?"

"I have to get back to my time. Believe it or not, it's not how it is in the movies."

"Can you comeback?" she asked.

Clint nodded. "I can meet you tomorrow if that's what you want."

"Is that even possible?"

"It is. If I change anything it just makes a new timeline." He shrugged like it was common knowledge as he turned towards her, swiping a stray hair from her face. "Sorry." He apologized immediately pulling his hand away.

"You're a sap, you know that right?"

"Yeah, but I'm your sap." Clint said as Natasha's phone began to ring. "You better take that."

Natasha looked at the caller, before glancing back up, finding Clint gone.

"Clint."

_"Nat? Tasha? Can you hear me? What the hell happened to SHIELD?"_

Natasha let out a breath of air. "It's a long story."

* * *

**Next installment coming soon!**


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